Ugly Side of Fairy Tales
by Thinkette
Summary: They were going to grind each other to dust until there was nothing left on that bed but a bloody imprint. They were. And her chant of "I hate you. I hate you." cuts through the room, his defeat all too fresh for him NOT to shut her up.


"You LOST." She said, her face squished up in an angry, hateful look. She turned her snake eyes onto his, her features radiant in spite.

Sting sucked the insides of his lower lip into his mouth, not wanting to bite it as he knew his enamel would sink right through the flesh and he'd certainly need stitches after that. "Fuck off Minerva. Brought me here to piss me off."

She moved to him, her face right up in his, her breath furious and harsh and he, instead of playing along with her game, instead of grabbing her or teasing her or just being himself, hissed. He hissed at her, finally baring his teeth once she was in front of him.

"You have no goddamn right to-"

"Shut the hell up, Minerva!" he spat, watching her inhale sharply. "I'm not in the mood for your bloody cock tease act, okay?"

"Say that again. Say it again and you won't even HAVE one anymore."

This was different than before. Minerva's voice was usually calm, steady. She spoke with an elegance that far preceded her years, a smooth voice that was that of a conniving, sly woman under the beautiful skin but this? This was harsh. It was a whisper, made low and breathy, signaling that she was unwinding.

"I bloody dare you, bitch. Fucking try it!" he said, not caring that he was getting too close to the venom. Not bothering to move a decent distance from her.

"YOU LOST!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she glared at him.

"I KNOW! I fucking KNOW! I felt that blast, Minerva, not YOU! Goddamn stuck up, prissy ass whore!" he screeched, looming over her like a tower, watching as her back bend so she could keep a distance but there was only so far backward she could twist. Her hands reached out, grasping the remnants of his shirt for balance as his nose pressed up against hers, hateful glance shared between them.

"I hate you. I hate you for losing. You're a weak bastard." She whispered, eyes boring into his, looking as if her composure was finally breaking, finally flaking off of her skin like old paint.

"Hate me then." He replied, his voice hoarse and harsh, husky as a roaring wind.

Her grip on his clothes tightened, white knuckled fists mustering up every speck of energy and adrenaline she had in her as she pulled him to her with all her might, lips connecting in a sharp frazzle of nerves and excitement. She felt the energy thrum in her very bones as he pressed back with a ferocity she couldn't have predicted.

But this was Sting. He has always been ferocious.

The kiss is all teeth and lips and hard wire. She is so angry, so very, very angry that she shakes and her hands unwind from his clothes, leaving wrinkles where the spaces of her fingers held the cloth. She grabs his hair in one renewed fist, clutches his shoulder with another, her nails digging into the flesh under the fabric. His grip on her hips is bruising as he pulls her to his body expertly, smacking his mouth against hers like they have nothing to lose.

Which may very well be the case soon enough.

They pull away, breathe. She chokes out "Failure." "Coward" "Loser" between the next meetings of their lips but he never gives her the chance to finish. He shoves her backward more, pressing her into the plain bed, her body surrounded by purple sheets. And she doesn't even have the time to scream as he is on her, her body flattening out as he presses her, like a flower between pages.

Her breath is harsh, ragged, raspy and he doesn't even bother with the formalities. He bites at her pout, acting more like a cannibal hungry for flesh than a man. She is blinding him with her loathing, pressing up against him and flipping them, clawing at his skin and ripping at his bruises, watching as he bleeds over her bed.

"You FAILED!" she screams, as she grinds against him, her face against his again.

"You still fucking want me." He hissed back, grabbing her locks, twisting his hand until he's got her almost by the roots so he can push her face back to his, so he can kiss her silly and make her bite back.

They were going to flake up against each other until they were dust, weren't they? She was going to press against him until he was nothing but fractured bones and skin particles and he was going to make her marrow and teeth, nothing more.

They claw at each other, leaving ragged marks against flesh. She keeps kissing, reaching in for another and another and another as if she is starved.

They were going to grind up against one another until they were just a bloody imprint on the sheets.

But no, no. It can't be like that because she's breaking around him. Her chest is heaving, her hands are trembling, her fingers grab at him and clutch on like he's an anchor in an endless ocean, like they're all they have. He tilts his head, tongue licking at the blood he left on her lip, suckling instead of bruising. She holds on so very, very tightly that it's almost impossible for him to not let go.

Her voice breaks, slipping from anger to fear in every second, muttering about how she hates losers, how he doesn't deserve to stay.

But soon, she grows tender, spent. She is tired, her anger exhausting her as she practically collapses against him, her hold on his hair no longer pulling him away as she continues rushing forward but instead meeting in the middle.

She lets go.

Her hate is gone, she is left hollow, curled around herself. She looks at her wall as Sting winces. She doesn't even bother to help with the new scars, but that's okay, it's fine. Because he was sure he was going to face worse later on. She sits up, her mouth twisting as she gulps, looking at him propped up on his elbows as he takes in a deep, deep breath.

"What have we done?" She asks, almost silently and wordlessly, as if her vocal chords don't work anymore.

"What we had to."

"We're getting attached-"

"I've BEEN attached, goddamn it." he says, breaking up her cold warning.

She says nothing for a few moments, only looks away, her mouth twisting further and she winces. It's still too soon for that. "You're in a shitload of trouble."

"Fucking know that already." He replies, sliding his eyes closed as she hesitantly takes in a deep breath and reaches her hand out to examine all the damage he has accumulated. "Come with me." He says suddenly, and she instantly recoils.

"I can't!" she spits out, some of her venom finally coming back.

"And why not?"

"I am a true Sabertooth mage! I won't pay for your failure!" She says, narrowing her eyes angrily.

"You don't have anyone here without me."

And he says it so simply, like he knows its fact rather than speculation. She feels the chords inside of her body snapping, her anger radiating…the truth of it all ringing out in her head.

He's right.

He's bloody right. She really has nothing in the guild without him. But she will never leave.

Never.

"No."

"Don't deny it-"

"No, I won't go with you."

"But-"

"But I will fight." She says, her voice strong as concrete as she finally stands up, legs even stronger.

She walks over to a corner of her room as he watches, rummages in a few drawers, pulls out medicine and gauze and looks at Sting. Really, REALLY looks at him as she goes back, fire in her eyes. And she reaches one hand out to mop up some of the gore on his chest before he grabs her wrist, trailing his eyes from the creamy flesh of her hand up to her forearm, her bruised shoulders, her marked neck, her jaw. Her lips.

Her lips.

He has to kiss her, he has no other choice. It is a pull and he has to obey. He has to. There is no other option here in her room. They were not Fairy Tail. There was no ridiculous "love" here. She hated almost everyone in the guild, including the master, her father. But for fucks sake, if he left, what the hell would she still do there?

She was going to grind him to dust and then she was going to collect the particles and put them back together. But that was HER right, not her father's.

"I hate that you lost." She said.

"I know." He replies simply, and then their moment is over and she slides her eyes closed, giving up on being kind and just shoving the bandages into his hands so he can help himself.

But she doesn't make him leave.

* * *

**I was so angr****y at the newest chapter that it hurt...no, seriously. I was so, so MAD. So...I let out some steam with a Hate!Kiss scene...I think I'll do something for GaLe as well..I was mad when I saw Pantherlily's smirk at Natsu's victory and when I saw that Levy was still in the stands and...I was angry. As usual, Chiaroscuro must wait for me to cool down after the pile of crock that was the newest chapter. I need to cool off. It's 8:30 in the morning here and I haven't slept a wink since I'm becoming an insomniac...if it sucks, that's why.  
**

**I'm gonna go find someone to kiss.  
**


End file.
